Active Retirement Living
by the batclan
Summary: A Dupidnavagog/ Jillybean Joint: Not all of Bruce Wayne's ideas are good ones. Five years before Terry McGinnis steals the suit, Bruce is bored to tears. He decides to move to a retirement home - but finds out that the place doesn't accept bats.
1. The Heritage Pines

"This house is getting too big for us, boy," Bruce absently scratched at Ace's ear. Wayne Manor. Indeed, it was too much space for one old man and his dog. Of the entire estate, Bruce occupied about a tenth of it: a bedroom, the adjoining bathroom, his office, and the kitchen. He didn't even use the Batcave anymore - not since the heart attack fifteen years ago. Without the Robins, Alfred, or even the occasional party guest, most of the manor was hidden under dust covers. He was sure someone else could put the manor to better use, but how could he give up his family home?  
  
Still, so many of his old friends had "downsized" to more manageable domiciles. With grown children, pared-down social calendars, and the normal physical effects of aging, even the Vreelands moved away, to an oceanfront community. "How much land does a man need, anyway?" Bruce recalled Tolstoy's essay. Certainly not this much, he thought.  
  
As Bruce drove to the Heritage Pines Retirement Home for Active Adults, he kept telling himself, I'm just here to look. I'm just here to look. The grounds were idyllic, just like the brochure promised. Gray-haired men and women were out for morning walks, some on their way to golf or play tennis. This might be a chance for a normal life, late as it is, he thought. Now that he has put the cape and cowl behind him, maybe that would be possible. Besides, he was getting sick of cooking night after night. This place might be good, after all. He parked the car and walked up the wide, shallow steps of the stately, one-story building. A smiling, well-coiffed woman greeted him warmly. "Hello Mr. Wayne," she said as she reached for his hand, "I am Shirley Bergen, director of Heritage Pines." He smiled in response.  
  
"This is a lovely facility," he complimented. She clutched a thick brochure under one arm as they toured the grounds.  
  
"Thank you. We are quite proud of it. It's important to us to keep a peaceful, welcoming environment, as it is home to over 150 active, retired adults. We have several amenities available - shuttle to shopping and doctor visits, should you not feel like driving, whirlpools, tennis, golf, no-impact aerobics." her list went on, "as well as crafts and Bingo." What do you think so far, Mr. Wayne?" she stopped and looked directly at his face. He sighed as he glanced around.  
  
"It looks nice enough here," he said," and you allow dogs?"  
  
"Only in your private patio and condo. If you bring him to the public areas, he must be on a leash," she answered, still smiling. "Also we have a weight limit of fifteen pounds. What kind of dog do you have, Mr. Wayne?" Bruce wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that this barrier existed.  
  
"One that weighs more than yourself," he replied neutrally. Fifteen pound dogs - what's the point? I've met bigger rats, thought the Batman.  
  
"Well, for an animal that size," she paused thoughtfully, "we can still allow it, but it will cost an extra five hundred credits per month, for maintenance." Or giant dog poops, in other words.  
  
Bruce nodded mutely. I guess this is active retirement living, he thought.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
"I thank you, Mr. Wayne, on behalf of the Gotham City Junior League, for allowing us to use your facilities for our meetings," the young woman shook his hand vigorously, her pearl bracelet clicking against itself. Half a dozen other well-dressed women stood behind her, beaming at the old man.  
  
"It's no problem at all, Ms. Andrews," he replied, in billionaire philanthropist mode, "in fact you are doing me a great service by taking care of my old house. I only hope the cobwebs aren't too many," he smiled. The women laughed politely. With that he handed over the keys and excused himself. Bruce let out a heavy sigh when he started the car. Ace was in the passenger seat. "Well this is it, boy," he said to the dog, "but we're just trying it out - nothing permanent."  
  
Bruce's reception at the Heritage Pines was interesting, if not surreal. The female residents turned out in force, lining the lobby hallway to get a glimpse of their new neighbor. This had little to do with his being a billionaire - these women didn't care about wealth. Simply put, the women outnumbered the men seven to one, and they heard this one was a hottie. Bruce tried to keep his gaze straight ahead - it had been at least twenty years since women hawked on him like this, and he was no longer used to it. What's more, these women were much more aggressive than the typical Gotham debutante.  
  
"Oh look at that dog, Marie..."  
  
"It's not the dog, idiot - it's the feet, you know, the larger the feet-"  
  
"Shh! He can hear you, Ashley. Besides, it's really the hands."  
  
"Oh who cares, Sarah? Girth is the only thing that matters...."  
  
Bruce picked up the pace. These women were creeping him out.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 


	2. Normal People Like Dinner

  
  
** Normal People Like Dinner**  
  
You'd think this were Disneyland, by the way these people are grinning, thought the Batman as Bruce Wayne smiled back. A young woman whose nametag said "Jade" was showing him the features in his condo.  
  
"Since you selected the larger, two-bedroom model, you have a walk-in closet - the light switch is over here - or we can have the place wired up with Clappers if you'd prefer...." Bruce suppressed a groan.  
After the circus left, Bruce sank into his couch, and propped his feet up on the coffee table. He surveyed the room through half-closed eyes. It was mid-afternoon, his drowsiest time of day. The cheerful room, with its natural, filtered light streaming from the patio French doors, made the furniture he brought from the manor look strangely - happy. Maybe happy is good, he thought as he drifted into a nap - normal people like happy.  
  
***  
  
Five o'clock came all too soon. Dinner would have almost started by then, and Bruce wanted to wash up a little before appearing at the dining hall. He splashed some cool water on his face, combed his hair back, slapped on a little cologne, scratched Ace's ear and left the room. Ace laid on the couch, staring quizzically at the closing door.  
  
The line for the dining room nearly went around the corner. Except for a few stragglers with wheelchairs and oxygen tanks, he was the last resident to show up. The double doors were still closed, but Bruce heard considerable movement from the front of the line. He craned his neck slightly to peer over the other residents' heads, and saw several people jostling for position in line. A few had walkers and canes, and they being used to gain or defend positions. Before it came to blows, the double doors opened, and the residents filed in. This whole procession made Bruce think of surly, gray-haired children.   
  
Most retirement homes serve meals buffet-style, but at the Heritage Pines, each meal should be a dining experience. Residents sit down at a table of their choice, and a server presents them with three or four choices from the menu,which changes daily. Today, Bruce chose the chicken almondine with rice pilaf and steamed vegetables. Soon after he had ordered, a wiry man with double hearing aids plunked down in the opposite chair.  
  
"Hey, new guy," he said with a grin, "how are ya? my name's Mike." Mike extended a hand. Bruce took the hand and gave it a firm shake. "Hi, Mike - Bruce Wayne," he said, trying not to be annoyed by the intrusion. This is what normal people do, he reminded himself, it's considered being friendly. Mike raised his eyebrows.  
"Bruce Wayne! I remember you from all those tabloids. Me, I used to work at Foxteca - MIS Director," Mike looked around surreptitiously before continuing. "You can score big with the ladies here, trust me. A guy's never had it this good - it almost makes up for all the times I didn't score in hig school and college," he said with a laugh. "And if you need, you know, Viagra, I'll hook you up, There's plenty of birds here for us to share, know what I mean?"  
  
Bruce forced a chuckle - Batman wanted to growl. "Well, uh, thanks for the offer, Mike. I'll remember that. But I'm not permanent here, a least not yet. I'm just checking the place out, to see if I want to stay." Mike nodded in agreement.  
  
"That's a good idea," he said. "You've got to feel comfortable where you live, and you don't want to end up in a place that steals your money and the nurses beat you up," Mike paused as a petite "blonde" woman passed by slowly. She smiled slyly at Mike, and her hips switched back and forth suggestively. A moment passed and Mike came back to Earth.  
"Hey, it was good talking to you, Bruce," he finally said with a grin as he rose. "But your food just arrived, and my buddy just showed up, so I'll see you around." He waved quickly, and then went in pursuit. The Batman smirked. So this is what life gets reduced to, he thought, almost humorously, as he ate dinner undisturbed, in silence.  
  
***  
  
After dinner the residents seemed to move as one to the large and cosy sitting room off the garden. As Gotham's red hued sun slipped behind a dark hill the elderly turned their faces indoors - to the net.  
  
Bruce could hardly imagine what they wanted to watch they could not download later, privately, in their own rooms. It wasn't like each room didn't have it's own connections. It seemed to him that these people, these _normal _people, knew what they were doing as they fought their ways to the most comfortable chairs. Perhaps he should copy them and secure a prized chair himself.  
Batman told him he didn't think the old women could handle his opening a can of 'whoop-ass' on the nearest of them.  
  
"Hey! Bruce!" Mike's hand shot up from nowhere and dragged Bruce down to a well padded sofa. Bruce sunk deep into the seat and was unsure he could get out without a helping hand.   
"Saved you a seat!" Mike told him proudly.   
"Uh - thanks." Bruce replied. "What for?" He regretted it the moment he asked the question. It seemed like everyone turned on him in complete, abject, horror.   
"Christ." Mike gasped, the 'blonde' beside him giggled.  
"For Detective Hedgeson silly." She scolded. Bruce wracked his brains but he couldn't connect this to anything. But then the screen drew breath and came to life - clearing up all his questions.  
  
Detective Hedgeson: Gotham Watch was a popular show. At this time each week a new episode was ready to be downloaded for the first time and watched. Hedgeson was an elderly, but still attractive member of Gotham's police force. He solved crimes by about half way through the episode and by the second half he had confronted the police chief, proved himself better than Batman by solving some ancient and previously unsolved case; and slept with the younger female detective of the week.  
  
As the credits rolled the inmates of Heritage Pines Retirement Home started to chatter about the show.  
"I never saw that one coming I tell ya!" Mike announced, slapping his thigh as he turned to Bruce. "I mean, McGowel as the suspect? How cool was that?"  
"Stunning." It was all Batman, from the 'die scum' voice to the hard, cold, blue eyes. Mike didn't seem to notice.  
"Are you going to be needing anything tonight Bruce?" He asked. "Cause you know," lewd wink "I think I'm getting lucky."  
"I must go walk my dog." Bruce said in a very tightly controlled voice. He stood, gripping his cane firmly, and walked out the room.  
  
***  
  
"ACE!" He bellowed, almost panicking, half convinced that somehow this place had gotten to his dog too. Ace leapt from the couch and looked at him as if to say  
Where's the fire?  
"You're okay." Bruce breathed a sigh of relief, scratching the dog behind his ears. Ace whined happily then scratched at the door. "Yeah." Bruce agreed. "Let's go for a walk."  
  
The grounds of Heritage Pines Retirement Home were extensive. He walked through the more well kept gardens, past the entrance to the golf course and out to the small false lake at the edge of the grounds. There he threw a stick for Ace a few times, knowing that the dog preferred to catch blunted batarangs.   
"Oh! Bother!" A frustrated female voice said behind him. Bruce had only the tiniest of warnings, the sound of grass being squashed by a swift movement, the whistle of a body through air - he ducked and swung around, ready with his cane to beat his assailant senseless.  
The large Dalmatian looked up at him, wagging her tail, her tongue rolling out the side of her mouth.  
  
"I do apologize." The female hurried up to him. She was about his age, elegant, although she could not be called pretty with the frown lines that edged her face. She scowled at him now even as she apologized.  
"Tinsel gets a little excited when she sees new dogs." The woman waved a hand towards Tinsel who was leaping circles around Ace. Ace, the poor thing, was looking completely terrified, totally unsure of how to handle the situation.  
"Ace is a little . . . uh . . ." _antisocial, mal-adjusted, vigilante-ed,_ "new at handling people - eh - other dogs." Bruce said. The woman looked at him sceptically.  
"I see." She said. She made no attempt to call her dog off and the Dalmatian was starting to jump on top of Ace. Bruce was at a loss as to what to say.  
  
"You don't recognize me, do you?" She asked, for the first time look amused. Bruce stared at her.  
"Uh . . . "  
"Metropolis? Early nineties?" The woman goaded, she laughed. "Yes - the greatest detective indeed."   
"Lois?" Bruce half stammered. Lois Lane turned away and whistled sharply.  
"Tinsel! Mutt get your ass over here." She walked off, leaving Bruce and Ace standing.  
  



	3. Homicide Lane Demands Her Sugar

Bruce woke in the late morning, which was rather early for him. He realized that one of the cheery nurses was hammering on his door, before walking in.

"Morning Mr Wayne!" She sang cheerily, pulling the curtains open. "Just checking to see if you were awake."

"Thank you." Bruce wondered if he could sound any less grateful, but the nurse's smile only got wider (making her look rather like one of the Joker's henchmen) and walked out.

"Breakfast ends at eleven!" She reminded him as she reached the door. 

Bruce collapsed back onto the bed and turned his head fractionally to see Ace watching him from the couch, only one eye open. If Ace could talk Bruce could only imagine what he'd come out with. 'You . . . bastard.' Seemed to be what he was working on saying right now. Bruce grimaced and sat up.

He dressed completely in black to give off his best [or worst depending on your point of view] 'I'm evil, stay away from me' vibes. He glanced in the mirror and pulled his best scowl. Yes. He was threatening. Yes. He was Batman. Yes. He was the scourge of the underworld. There was nothing he couldn't handle. There was nothing that could handle him.

The restaurant was clearing up when he got to it, most of the residents having ate breakfast. Bruce ordered kippers and sat by himself, concentrating on looking evil for the women that were sitting a few tables down. They kept glancing at him and talking about him, did they think he wouldn't notice? Women!

A harsh cackle interrupted his breakfast and Lois sat down opposite him, taking a slice of bread from his toast rack. Her deeply lined face was creased in laughter.

"Sometimes I wonder how high your IQ really is." She said, smearing honey on the toast. Bruce glowered at her. She snorted. "Look, that's a scary face Bruce. But I'm scarier."

"Always were." He said before he could help himself. Lois smirked and bit into the toast.  


"And don't wear black in a nursing home." She said to him, still chewing.   


"It's an intimidating colour." He said darkly, as if to prove his point. Lois shook her head.  


"No, it's a sexy colour. And these women are swooning over it." She grabbed a passing waiter by the elbow and pulled him to the table. "You. Tea." She snapped. Now it was Bruce's turn to be amused.

"And I thought I was bad-tempered." He said. Lois glared at him.

"Let me tell you what else you're doing wrong," she continued, unfazed. "The whole 'I'm a mean man' schtick - if anything that _attracts_ women, it doesn't repel us." She paused, and upon seeing Bruce's curious expression, continued. "The whole bad boy thing - women are suckers for it, even at eighty. You should know - Batman got tons more women than the more wholesome superheroes. Don't ask me why, maybe we women are retarded. So if you want to repel women, try wearing striped pants, a pastel shirt - paste a goofy smile on your face and be a boy scout."

Bruce was on the brink of laughing. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. When the moment finally passed, he spoke. "So you sound a little bitter about boy scouts." Lois fixed her violet eyes on him coldly.

"Try living with a man who never grows old. Try living with a man who doesn't so much as look at you. Try living with a man who won't even take his shirt off when he's in the same goddamned room." She snapped. "It makes you bad-tempered pretty fast." Bruce raised his head in agreement. He supposed living with that boy scout must be very difficult, if not intolerable..  


"I had no idea you were in Gotham." He admitted. It annoyed him.  


"I didn't tell you." She replied grumpily. "I didn't want you to know."  


"Can I ask why?" Bruce was curious, he had always liked Lois. She glowered at the waiter as he approached with her tea, shaking so much the pot was rattling.  


"Because I'm a moany old journalist with a superhero daughter, a superhero ex-husband with irreconcilable differences, and a dog." She admitted, daring him to pity her. Bruce shrugged.  


"And I'm a moany old ex-superhero with an errant superhero son, no next of kin, and a dog." He told her. Lois took a sip of her tea.  


"At least you were a superhero."  


"At least you had a decent relationship." He countered. Lois's eyes sparked with the challenge.  


"At least you have a sane dog."  


"At least your child still talks to you."  


"This could go on all day." Lois told him. "Logic would suggest we stop."  


"At least I don't back out of an argument." He was thoroughly enjoying this. Lois was one of the few people with the brains - and the courage - to make interesting conversation with him. She scowled, then turned her attention back to the waiter.

"Hey, where's the sugar?" The young man paled before their eyes.

"Ms. - Ms. Lane, won't your docter be mad? I mean, your blood sugar-"

"And the fake stuff gives cancer to lab rats, and I'm gonna die anyway. So give up the sugar!" he nodded imperceptibly and scurried away. No one denies Homicide Lane and lives to tell about it.

"So how long have you been diabetic?" Bruce asked after a few moments.

"Five years," she answered off-handedly, "been taking insulin shots daily for the last two."

"You should at least combine protein with your carbs," he offered. She glared.

"Not you, too."

"Well if you want to lose a foot, then be my guest," he snapped. "Diabetes can get ugly."

"You don't need to tell _me _about it," she snapped back. "Don't you think I already know?" She sat back and glowered for a moment, the line between her eyebrows deepening. Finally she sighed. "Sorry."

Bruce shrugged. "Should we take our psychotic dogs for a walk?" Lois smiled slyly.

"Is this a date, Wayne?"

"It's a walk, Lois," he answered flatly. But his eyes were smiling.

***

They made a loop around the golf course and tennis courts. The dogs ran off-leash for a while at the man-made duck pond. This was, of course, against Heritage Pines' rules, but Tinsel simply could not be denied. It was either this small offense or Lois' shoulder socket. Ace eventually got over his fear of Tinsel, and ran after her, though a little guardedly. He didn't much care for her - blissful exuberance?

Ace didn't understand it. The spotted dog must be retarded, because she acts like a puppy - as if she had no knowledge of the bad men, or of hunger, or of pain. The spotted dog cared only of scattering the white ducks, chasing them from the lawn and into the water. The spotted dog was a very curious creature.

Bruce leaned against his cane and looked past the dogs. It had been a long time that he has been outside, during the day, not surrounded by city pollution - with nowhere urgent to go. In fact, he couldn't remember a time like that. It felt so peaceful. _This wasn't so bad,_ Bruce thought. And having Lois here made him feel a little more - sane.

"So what is there to do around here?" Bruce asked.

"Aside from the square dancing classes?" Lois cackled. "Talking about the old days, or gossiping about other people."

"The world shrinks within these walls," he said, looking in the distance. "How do you stand it, then?"

Lois laughed. "It's not like before, when I could jet off to Europe for a few weeks whenever I got bored. I'm old, Wayne," she said with a shrug, "I need to see the docter every week, give myself shots every day. It sucks, but that's life." She glanced at his profile briefly, and decided to ask the question that had been nagging her for the last day or two. "So, what ever happened to your - cat - friend?" His jaw clenched slightly, and he shot her a cold glare. "Hey, thirty years of investigative reporting," she laughed, "it's my habit to ask dangerous questions."

_What I wouldn't give for a jumpline and a skyscraper right now_, Bats growled. But instead, he was trapped here with Lois, waiting expectantly for his answer. "She escaped," he said gruffly._ Escaped? Maybe moved away would be more accurate,_ Bruce chastised himself. Selina hadn't stolen anything in years, thus there was no one - the Batman or the GCPD - to actually escape from. She just - disappeared - one day.

"You don't know where she went?"

"She doesn't want to be found, so I can't find her," he said. "The last time I heard from her was when I was in the hospital, after the heart attack," he paused, as if still mystified. "She sent me a corny Garfield get-well card."

"Hm," was all Lois said, a tiny smile playing on her lips.


	4. Old Habits That Just Won't Go Away

Bruce spent much of the day with Lois and Tinsel. Having no interest in the square dancing class, or the macrame class, he returned to his apartment for a nap. At five o'clock, he wasn't actually hungry enough to have dinner - and in fact, perhaps he would miss most of the hornier senior citizens._ Showing up late would have its merits_, Bruce smiled.

As the other residents dined, he took a quiet walk around the sprawling structure. There were leafy atriums, lobbies with grand pianos and computer monitors, pharmacy desks, and mini art galleries. Finally, he arrived at a less attractive part of the Heritage Pines. There was a metal door, slightly obscured by a large ficus. As if naturally drawn there, he silently turned the knob and slipped inside.

Bruce found he was in a sterile-looking corridor that snaked its way through the Pines building like a spine. As he walked it, he passed numerous metal doors labelled numerically. However, he could tell from the sounds and smells behind each door approximately where he was. Some led to parts within the Pines, while others led directly outside. He could smell the cool night air behind some doors, laundry detergent behind others, and garbage bins bhind still others. He was intrigued, but a voice in his head reminded gently that _normal people don't sneak around in back corridors_. He waved the voice off.

Several yards behind him, he heard a doorknob turn. Bruce's eyes darted around. Heating vent right above him - but no grapnel. Then he saw a tall pile of boxes next to door number 12. _That'll have to do_, Bats grumbled. He quickly ducked behind them. The sound of two pairs of feet shuffled toward him. Bruce pressed his back against the boxes, gripping his cane.

"- must not have deposited her social security check yet, because I only scored three hundred creds off of her," a youngish-sounding voice told his coworker. Bruce's eyes narrowed. _This was sickening, and to think it exists in such an exclusive home..._

His grip tightened around his cane. 

"Well you can always get in a few days later - pick up her laundry, vacuum the place - it's easy enough, Bill," the other one replied._ This one sounds bigger, footfalls are heavier... and a lot less remorseful... sounds like he's on the near side of me - good... _

They were nearly upon him. He exhaled. He watched them just barely pass him, completely unaware of his existence.

He moved swiftly, like a shadow. He struck the larger one hard, on the back of the neck. He fell, unconscious. Then he threw himself at the second one, putting the cane crosswise between them. Pinning him, he flipped the man onto his stomach and forced his face into the floor.

His back pulsed with pain. His knees were sore against the hard linoleum floor. He ignored them, but just barely.

"Who are you stealing from? TALK!" He snarled. He felt the man jump in fear beneath him. It made him smile - on the inside.

"Fuck you!" he stuttered in mock bravado. The Batman forced his head harder against the floor, and dug his elbow into the space between his shoulderblades.

"This hurts like hell, doesn't it, Bill?" he asked darkly. "I weigh over two hundred pounds, and I don't think you want that kind of weight on your spine." He pushed down sharply to emphasize his point. Bill gasped.

"OK, OK - we've been scamming off of Mike the Player," he confessed desperately. Bill ust wanted this man to let go. It didn't happen.

"Who else?" he growled. Bill didn't answer fast enough. The larger man stirred and groaned. In one fluid moion, the cane fell swiftly on the back of his neck again, and he went still again. "WHO ELSE!" he rasped into Bill's ear.

"Homicide Lane, Gerald Foy, Marina De Leon, and Ashley Winters," he answered, voice full of panic. "That's all, I swear!"

"If anyone's bank balance comes up short, Bill," the voice lowered, "I'll know where to find you." _No smoke bombs, no mask, not even a damn hat and sunglasses, _he cursed. With that, he brought the side of his hand down sharply on Bills neck, rendering him unconscious. He searched Bill and his friend's pockets, collected up all the creds, their driver's licenses, and headed to the dining hall.

His joints ached. He wiped his forehead and neck with a handkerchief before entering the dining hall. It was nearly half-empty- it seemed the grumpier half ate later, he thought, telling from all the lone diners. This was good - he had a lot to think about.

_Normal people would notify the authorities, _he scolded._ Normal people wouldn't even go through the back corridor to begin with. And besides, _he continued, _how are you going to return the creds to their owners?_ "This whole thing stinks," he grumbled into his split pea soup.

"Hey Wayne." It was Lois' voice. Part of him really wanted to talk to her. The other wanted to, well, hide in the Batcave.

"Go away," he growled before he could stop himself. But he didn't take it back.

"Damn, Bruce," she snapped. "Just being neighborly and all - but nevermind!" She spun on her heel and stormed out. A few heads turned in his direction. He couldn't very well run after her like some pup - some boyfriend - so he just watched her go.


	5. Steel Men and Bats Don't Mix

Bruce was upset. The stack of recovered creds sat on his desk, the giant mahogany one brought from the Manor. Ace's head rested on his thigh, and   
Bruce absently scratched the big dog's ears. He wondered if the Batman would have a place in this community - certainly, as long as people were involved, there would be greed, and the temptation to commit crime; and he was fortunate enough to have the mental and physical power to make a difference. In fact, he could use Ms. Homicide Lane - he grinned at the nickname - to root out information, and perhaps she would enjoy the excitement, a break from the monotony of growing old.  
  
But this is what we came here to escape from, he protested, This is perhaps our last chance to be normal. It had been five days since he moved into the Heritage Pines - and rejoined society - and he was already failing at being "normal". He put his hands over his face and groaned.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++  
  
The quiet chatter in the dining hall dropped to a hush when he entered. He wasn't sure whether to be completely embarrassed, or pleased with the result. He continued, walking to an empty table for two.  
Bruce changed his look radically, a look he had held for the vast majority of his life. Here he was, sitting with a vague smile on his face. He wore a short-sleeved shirt with white and sky blue stripes, light khaki slacks, and white loafers. For good measure, he rubbed some Flex-All into his back, and wore Old Spice instead of his usual scent. From the corner of his eye, he could tell the women were still talking about him, but instead of the excited, giddy tones, they sounded more confused and disgusted.  
  
"Oh God," Lois gasped from across the room, then broke into a raucous laugh. He shot her a look that could only mean shut up. Actually, he realized how much he missed the way her eyes twinkled when she was amused. She put a hand over her mouth to hide the uncontrollable smile.  
  
"Hey, Lois," he greeted lightly. "Let me tell you about my sciatica..." She sat down opposite him, and lowered her voice.  
"OK, sorry about that," she said with one last giggle, "but your get-up is just - well, such a surprise. And you smell just like my grandfather!" She paused to read the menu. Filet of sole, rice pilaf and steamed vegetables. "Oh, and thank you for the apology flowers," Bruce allowed himself a small smile.  
  
"Oh, those weren't apology flowers," he lied. "It's just been really nice having you here with me. You know, I don't think I would have lasted this long here without you." Lois leaned forward. Bruce leaned in as well.  
"You know, Bruce, with the flowers and all, you're going to start a huge rumour that I'm sleeping with you."  
_ 'Only a rumour?' Was what sprung to his mind, strangely it was in Selina's voice.   
'And we couldn't have that, how improper.' Was the second thing, said in Barbara's voice.  
'Oh God you are so desperate.' Why on earth was Dick, of all people, giving him relationship advice?_  
"You should watch out." Bruce said darkly. "The other women will attack."   
"Not if you keep dressing like that." Lois replied primly. She watched him, her eyes darting over his shoulders and chest before settling on his face again. "You know," she began speculatively. "You've aged well."  
"I think that's a compliment." Bruce began, as if talking about a piece of art. "But judging by the delivery and tone I would say there was hidden bite."  
"Homicide Lane." Was Lois's reply. "I'll have the Sole."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Bruce and Lois walked their dogs, tactfully avoided tango lessons and downloaded a new book each from the library. Then they were in the hallways, just about to part ways and head for separate rooms. A nurse walked past, eyeing them suspiciously. She found something to do in a nearby linen closet, ready to intervene if the children were to be naughty.  
  
"I . . . guess I'll see you tomorrow." Lois said, wincing internally. Bruce nodded, clearly uncomfortable.   
"Sweet dreams." He said. Lois didn't look happy at that comment, if Bruce only knew the images that were conjured in her mind at those words. Images of someone human, not alien - who had all the flaws and perks of someone human, not alien.  
The nurse watched them part, suitably satisfied that the old fogies were up to nothing icky. There was nothing worse than walking in on two old wrinklies.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
The morning dawned on Bruce in a light green polo shirt and beige khaki's. Ace gave him the most truly sceptical look as he stepped out into the living area.   
"Oh shut up." Bruce muttered. Ace whined demurely, standing and padding over to the window, sitting and watching the world pass him by. His haughtily held spine spoke volumes to Bruce. Of course, he would not be pacified by anything asides from an extremely long walk and a good game of tug an war.   
So Bruce was late, even for him, for breakfast.  
  
"Morning." Lois said dryly, sipping her fourth cup of coffee and trying to pretend it was still her first. She hadn't waited in the half deserted restaurant for him. She hadn't endlessly thought up excuses, both for his lateness and her dallying. Most especially, she did not smile when he entered the room, however hastily hidden it may have been.  
Bruce grunted, sitting down and ordering a lightly toasted grapefruit. Lois glowered, here she was, practically insane with the agony of waiting for him and now he was all 'I'm-an-ex-superhero-don't-talk-to-me'. This was the exact kind of attitude Clark had given her. Pig headed, grossly over confident, I know more than you do-  
  
"Is something wrong?" The greatest detective asked as he noticed a thundercloud gather above Lois's head. The cloud broke and lightning struck out at Bruce.  
"Something wrong! Do you _know _what day it is today?" She demanded. Bruce had to shake his head, Batman wanted to run.  
"The second Saturday of the month!" She shouted. All that was running through Bruce's head was _anniversary, anniversary, anniversary._ But he was positive they had nothing to anniversary about so he was drawing a blank.  
"The Day of Visits!" Lois explained aggravatedly. "Today all the families come and talk and bequeath gifts and sticky children and walks and Clark and bloody angsting teenagers and-"  
"Clark is coming?" Bruce asked quietly. Lois broke off. She stared into her coffee cup resentfully.  
"I got his call last night." She admitted eventually. Bruce nodded.  
  
"You told me you were divorced."  
"We are." She groaned. "He just wants 'to talk'. To 'be friends'. To 'try and see how things work out'." Her fingers massaged her temples gently, Bruce was possessed by a Batman like desire to solve all her problems. He leaned forward, trying to be friendly.  
"Maybe this is a good thing."  
"And maybe this is barking up the same old tree with the same old words and the same old tired tune." Lois said slowly. For the first time, she looked old. Truly old. Her skin was pale and taught over bones that were too frail to take much of a beating. It scared Bruce.  
"I'm sorry Bruce." She said, sniffing a little. "But when Clark . . ." She broke off, trying to think of how to say this. She realized now that waiting had been a mistake. "When he's here - you can't."  
"Sorry?" Bruce asked, confused as to why she had stopped her sentence half way through.  
"When Clark is here. When my ex-husband is here my ex-boyfriend cannot be hanging around. I can't talk to you today damn it Bruce." She stood and left, leaving Bruce to contemplate the Supercouple and their problems. He wondered about any Batcouples. They were always more fiery, more gallivanting around the cave and far, far more break ups. Somehow, the ending of the Supercouple didn't make him feel any better about his own relationships. Just sad for Lois.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Clark Kent looked very good for his age. In fact, a young red-headed woman with an overworked looking husband a young son and a toddler eyed him up as he passed.  
But Clark didn't notice. Clark _never _noticed. To him vanity was something completely alien - after all, where he came from he was run of the mill. He signed in at the reception desk and answered the nurse's question about the bouquet of flowers.  
"An olive branch." He said.  
"Yuck! Olives!" Shouted the little boy by the red-headed woman's side. His mother shushed him and he began singing loudly. Clark smiled benevolently, crouching down.  
  
"Don't you like olives?" He asked the kid, thinking that it must be boring for the kid. The little boy got a curious, blank look in his eyes and started to look around the room. The red-headed woman jerked his arm sharply.  
"Terrance! Warren! McGinnis!" She all but shrieked. "I have told you time and again - I am sorry sir." She broke off half way through to apologize to Clark. "My son likes to pretend he's deaf. I don't know where he got it from."  
"Oh leave the boy Mary." Her husband said, ever weary. "He's just a kid."  
"It's hardly a nice thing to do." Mary snapped back.   
"For heavens sake Mary we are trying to have a nice family day out." The husband pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Don't worry ma'am." Clark reassured Mary. "When my daughter was young she loved to cause trouble, always trying to fly when we were out in town." He smiled at Mary who gave a half hearted smile in return. She jerked her son down the corridor, her husband and toddler following sedately. Clark smiled, happy that he had reassured the woman, and followed the receptionists directions for Lois's rooms.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++  
  
Mary reached the rooms of her husband great-aunt Florence and prepared herself for the monthly agony of trying to make the boys behave. Florence would stare at Mary's calves the whole time, completely disapproving of Mary's below the knee skirt, then say loudly how she thought society was going downhill. Her poor, poor Warren - forced to co-habit with this unwashed creature of the Gotham night. Because Mary didn't really think of herself as married anymore.  
For a wonder, Terry was quiet, playing with little Matt on the patio, their good behaviour allowed Mary to slip into a dream world where she could fulfil her dream of finally being single again.  
  
Terry was quiet because Terry was sneaking off. It was a new trick he'd learned. If he was quiet his parents would ignore him, grateful for the respite and he could sneak off.   
Today he walked through the sunny grounds, looking for something to do. He found it in the shape of a big Dalmatian. The dogs brown eyes bored into Terry's bright blue ones, trying to decide whether he was food or a toy.  
Tinsel decided on the latter and Terry was to forever remain afraid of Dalmatians.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++  
  
"Clark." Lois began half heartedly, waving the flowers a little limply in her hands.  
"Shall I get a vase?" Clark asked quickly. Lois sighed.  
"Clark this won't work." She said, shutting her eyes as Clark stood, agitated. He paced the floor, his muscles tense.  
"A vase could work." He told her defensively, trying to retreat to common ground. Lois practically whimpered.  
"A vase won't hold us together. Clark - we're over." She tried to stress the last words but they came out a whisper. Clark, however, suddenly stood to attention.  
"The kid." He said suddenly, in complete superhero mode. Lois's eyes snapped to the gardens. She'd left the patio doors open in the heat and Tinsel was playing with something in the duck pond.  
"Oh no . . ." She moaned.  
  
Clark reached the duck pond long before Bruce. Ace, who had been bounding ahead, drew up short and returned to Bruce's side. The Batman and the Batdog watched from the sides as Clark rescued the boy and took him inside to Lois's room.  
"Probably best." Bruce muttered. He couldn't help think though, that Clark hadn't checked to see if the boys airway was clear before moving. He hesitated for a moment, really - he knew Clark was capable of looking after the boy but . . .  
Just in case. Bats murmured and Bruce and Ace headed forward.  
  
"Are you okay kid?" Clark asked, lying the sodden little boy gingerly on the sofa. Lois groaned.  
"Hey kid, I'm sorry - the mutt slipped outside before I could stop her." She said. The little boy coughed a little and looked between them, wondering how he was going to get out of this one. "Anyway, where's your parents?" Lois asked.  
"Yes, where's your mommy, Terrance Warren?" Clark asked. The little boy screwed up his face at the use of his full name.  
"Don't have one." He lied, then began singing. Lois grabbed his shoulder.  
"Terr!" She shouted. The kid looked up at her resentfully.  
"Where's your mother." She demanded, the little kid looked at his shoes.  
"With Great great aunty Florence." He muttered.  
  
"The kid must mean old Nagerator-Florence." Bruce said from the patio doors. Lois nodded, wishing he hadn't chosen to show up just then.  
"Bruce?" Clark exclaimed.  
"Clark!" Bruce was as surprised as any old man who has just found one of his best friends lurking around. "Clark Kent - great to see you."   
"Nagerator-Florence?" Terry asked, he chuckled harshly. "I like it." Bruce looked at the kid, strangely taken-aback by the child's chuckle.  
"Come on kiddo - let's take you back." He said, trying to be cheery though he really didn't feel it. Clark clapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder, nearly sending him flying.   
"Yeah - let's do that Bruce." He grinned and elbowed Bruce in the ribs. "Like old times, huh?"  
  
"You're freaky man." Terry said, leaping off the sofa and darting past them. Lois grimaced, trying to restrain Tinsel.  
"Go after the kid!" She shouted.   
  
Clark and Bruce both went forward, Clark speeding like a bullet somewhat slowed from time, Bruce drew back, realizing that speed wouldn't win this. He needed a grappling hook or a lined batarang or a . . .  
"Ace!" He shouted. "Fetch!"   
Obediently Ace sprung forward, getting past Clark (who couldn't show off his Superman powers in a place like this). The big doberman cross screeched to a stop in front of Terry, growling. The dog started to herd the young child back, only to be intercepted by Clark. The man of steel lifted Terry from the ground.  
"Listen young man." He said. "You have got to re-think your attitude! Think of all the worry you'll have caused your mother-"  
"Clark." Bruce interrupted softly, easing the boy out of Clark's hands. Now Bruce held Terry an inch off the ground. "I'll go return the kid to his mother." He said calmly, turning and walking away.  
  
"That's right." Clark muttered darkly. "Steal all the glory."  
"Excuse me?" Bruce asked, turning around. Clark glared at him.  
"The glory, the women, the sexy colours - it was always you." Clark whined, flinging his hands in the air. Bruce felt his fist clenching.  
"Coming from oh-look-at-me-I'm-made-of-steel this is kind of rich." Bruce replied. Lois approached cautiously from the sides, hanging well back with Tinsel and Ace. She sent an apologetic look to the terrified kid, still dangling from Bruce's grasp.  
  
"And it was _always _the same - I'd say - let's do this!" Clark began, leaning forward. "Then you'd say _noooooooo _- let's do this! And that's always what we did!"  
"I was the thinker Clark - that was my job!" Bruce retorted. "Just because you're not a strategists you can't blame me!"  
"And did I mention the women!" Clark added. "Every time some gorgeous alien came to the control room it was always you! And let's not get started on the Cat!"  
"Hey!" Bruce practically roared. "You had a poster of my girlfriend in your locker!"   
"So she was your girlfriend!" Clark crowed, punching the air victoriously. "I knew it! Besides - everyone had a poster of her in their locker, it was requisite right their beside that pic of Batgirl-"  
"You preyed on my associates!"  
"On you line of endless girlfriends! And now you steal my wife-"  
  
The punch was totally unexpected and it cut the Kryptonite right off. He was ready to hit Bruce back, but it was Lois that was shaking her fist.   
"You had pictures of Catwoman in your locker!" She hissed. Clark held his hands up quickly.  
"Flash pinned it up, I swear Lois . . . I just . . . neglected . . . to remove it."  
"You can fry in Hell for all I care Clark. I am not your wife anymore." She turned on her heel and stalked off. Clark turned on Bruce, his fury bubbling over - but he was gone.   
  
++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Bruce took a leaf from the book of any henchman and escaped at the earliest opportunity. Now he was practically dragging the kid through the corridors of Heritage Pines and casting the occasional glance over his shoulder.  
He dropped the kid outside of Florence's door and knocked politely. The young and frustrated looking woman that answered swept down on Terry in a mixture of complete relief and overwhelming anger. The relief won out and she kissed her son on the forehead.  
  
"Oh thank you mister . . . ?" She began.  
"Wayne." Bruce supplied with a pleasant smile. "Bruce Wayne." He saw her expression change and she composed herself quickly.   
"Oh Mr Wayne - it's a pleasure. I am so sorry if my son caused you any trouble."  
"Hey mister!" Terry tugged on Bruce's hand impertinently. "If it had been a fight between you and the big guy I think you'd have won." He said, then he looked every serious indeed. "But the lady could have whooped your ass."  
"Terrance!" Mrs McGinnis looked shocked. Bruce smiled and leaned down.  
"The lady's can always kick your ass. Remember that kid." He nodded politely to Mrs McGinnis and walked off.  
  
He felt like skipping as he walked down the corridor - he was effused with energy because of this one good deed. He missed good deeds.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++  
  
That evening a black shadow slipped into the various rooms and returned the recovered creds. They were anonymous - no note from your friendly residential Batman - just your creds.   
He hesitated a little before sneaking into Lois's room, for some reason it was more of an invasion of privacy for her.  
  
He would give the creds to her tomorrow at breakfast and ask what happened afterwards with Clark.  



	6. Not That Active, Mr Wayne

The same night the Bruce was returning creds, Lois was sitting up in bed, going over some photo albums. In some ways it was a relief to know that Clark had flaws and weaknesses, too - in fact, it was a relief in a lot of ways. Perhaps being married to a superhuman wore on her more than she knew - maybe Homicide Lane had accidentally developed an inferiority complex?  
  
She frowned. But more importantly, she felt somehow released from whatever chains had been binding her. However, did she feel so free as to do what she   
really wanted? Lois sighed. For the first time in years - was she going to make a smart decision? No more capes. No more cowls. No more Supermen. In Lois' mind, Bruce had an uncanny ability to show up at either the very best or very worst times. She heard a polite knock at the door, and since it wasn't followed by the sound of jangling keys, she knew it wasn't a member of the Pines' staff. It couldn't be Clark - he could never bring himself to show his face around her door again. That only left Bruce. Her pulse quickened slightly as she stuffed the album under her bed and rushed to the door. The Flex-All and Old Spice smells were gone, and the goofy   
colorful clothes were replaced by a black sweater and khaki slacks. He looked really good - tt took her a moment to regain her wry expression.  
  
"So, are you checking up on the poor ex-wife of a slightly flawed superhero?" one side of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. Bruce slipped through her door, dropping Lois' stolen creds into her open purse that sat on the end table behind his back. She hadn't noticed.  
"Lois, I know you wore the pants in that marriage," he smirked back. "But since you brought it up, how are you feeling?"  
"I dunno," she said, a little aimlessly. "But I've got to get out of this room. I'm afraid I'm going to have one of those chick movie, set-pictures-of-my-ex-on-fire moments. And at this age, it's just damn embarrasing." Bruce chuckled.  
"OK then, let's get out of here."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
They walked through the grounds for well over an hour. They talked about the JLA, their brief romance, Clark, Lex, and what happened over the last forty years. A few times, Lois wanted to blurt out how she really felt about Bruce, and each time she'd bite her lip to stop herself. After they had exhausted the walking paths of the Heritage Pines, Bruce sensed she still wasn't ready to go back home. In many ways, he was glad. Although he was uncertain what would happen next, he felt so strangely "normal" around her - so relaxed, so understood. Eventually they found themselves back at Bruce's apartment.  
  
They used the patio door, to avoid any nosy employees. As door closed behind them, Lois watched pensively as Bruce set his keys down and turn on a light. She exhaled - then, just as he turned his attention back to her, she took a step forward and brought her arms around him in a tight hug.  
"Thanks for all this, Bruce," she said softly. "I guess I really needed that." He squeezed her back gently. His hands felt so warm against her back, she closed her eyes briefly.  
"Of course," he replied, "you're important in my life."  
  
She held onto Bruce for a moment longer. He felt so solid, so reassuring. She pulled back hesitantly, then leaned up to kiss him. It felt so strange to kiss another man after so many years, no matter how often she had thought about him over the decades. She felt grateful when he returned the kiss completely. Lois relaxed, smiling a little at the thought that she was finally doing the right thing for herself, something that would make her so happy.  
  
Bruce pulled away and looked into her violet eyes. "You have no idea how good this feels, Lois. All these years, I didn't know what I was missing." Lois' eyes creased into a warm smile. She hugged him once again and sighed. He pulled her into his lap as he eased himself onto the edge of his bed.  
  
"I can't believe I broke up with you - just because I was scared by the Bat."  
"He's supposed to be scary," he said with a slight laugh. "But only to the criminals, not you." He kissed her forehead. Lois settled into his arms contentedly. Her eyes wandered around his room. All his furniture was very large, very masculine - just as she had imagined it. On his nightstand was a curious little plastic bottle. It was strange to her, as it appeared to be filled with prescription drugs, but usually that kind of thing belongs in the bathroom...  
  
"What's this?" she asked casually as she reached for it. Bruce stiffened and had to stop himself from snatching it away. Her eyes widened.  
"What the hell are you doing with Viagra, Bruce?" She didn't know whether to laugh or be offended - did he really think she'd be so easy? But in a way, it was touching that he would be so - prepared?  
  
Bruce sighed resignedly. He had no way to get out of telling her that the Batman has resurfaced. He rested his hands gently on her thin shoulders.  
"I've been tracking Mike the Player. I think he's passing off sugar pills dipped in blue food coloring as the real thing."  
  
"Oh God." Bats was back. Does Bruce have a deathwish? He's seventy frigging years old... Lois remembered her little vow of only half an hour ago, damn it. No more capes! Bruce continued.  
"The first day I was here, he went out of his way to introduce himself, and tell me that he can provide me with all the Viagra I wanted. Then I   
overheard Foy complaining that his pills didn't work, even after he took three, per Mike's suggestion."  
"Oh God." She buried her face in her hands. Is he really going to traipse around here in his cape and tights? He took her hands away, and held her chin and looked into her eyes.  
  
"No, I'm not geting back in the costume."_ Was he always this psychic?_ "This is the right thing to do, and I cannot sit by and watch other people get robbed." He continued. Lois sighed.  
"Bruce - this is it, right? This is only the once?" She asked hopefully. Bruce remained quiet, his gaze meeting hers. "It's not gonna be _too _often?" Lois asked.  
"Not too often." Bruce agreed. "If ever something would - come up, if you'll pardon the expression."  
  
"Then I guess . . . I'm okay with it." Lois grumbled.  
"And that's the only reason why I have these little blue pills."  
"Oh. Really." A sly grin tugged at her lips.  
"Yes, really." He swung her deftly from his lap to the bed, one hand supporting himself, the other lingering at her waist. He leaned in close, his face just inches from hers. "Will you take my word for it, or do you need proof?" Lois remained unfazed.  
"Is that an invitation, Wayne?" she asked softly, as she brought her hands up and ran her fingers through his hair. He lowered himself a little more, and kissed her neck.  
  
Then he whispered. "It's a question, Homicide."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Breakfast was its usual sordid affair and Lois just could not stop grinning. Bruce was all business, watching Mike intently, although Mike would never have noticed. As Mike stood to leave Bruce seemed to be pulled to his feet by some sort of force. Bruce slipped out of the dining hall, like Mike's shadow. Lois followed hurriedly - just in case Bruce killed someone. Not that she thought he would but . . . he was a lot stronger than he looked. She grinned again.  
  
"Off to get some more little blue placebos, Mike?" Bruce called as soon as Mike had entered a corridor that looked deserted enough for a confrontation.  
  
Mike turned, an affable smile on his face. "Bruce! Didn't know you were there. What did you say?" He asked. Bruce didn't smile back.  
  
"You know. That Viagra you sold me, more sugar pills?" Mike's smile disappeared. Bruce stood fast.  
"Don't make blind accusations, Bruce," Mike growled menacingly.  
"Blind? I sweetened my tea with five of your Viagra pills this morning - do I look hapy to see you?" Lois snickered. "We entered a business agreement Mike. You broke it." Bruce spoke calmly, Lois hesitated just behind him, not sure what to do. "I have proof that the pills you sold to me and many of the other guys here aren't Viagra at all. You had Gerald taking three pills in hopes of a positive effect. Do you realize that, if he ever tried that with real Viagra, he'd be in the hospital, in great pain, all because of your greed?"  
  
"This isn't your company - we're just two men, and you're soiling my reputation." Mike said.  
  
"All I want is for you to return the money, and stop selling fake pills. And, you've soiled your own reputation, Mike," Bruce replied, watching the wiry man closely. "If word gets out about this, you will be ruined here."  
  
"Why are you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong? What are you, some kind of boy scout?"  
  
"You got the wrong guy," Bats snarled darkly. Mike crouched and circled Bruce, then suddenly rushed him. Bruce took a step back and blocked Mike with his cane. Mike fell to one knee and rubbed his sore chin.  
  
"You gonna use that cane, old man, or do you have the balls to fight me without it?" Mike taunted as he threw his hearing aids aside. The Batman dropped the cane, and Bruce's face twisted into a dark scowl.  
"Come at me," he growled.  
  
And it was on.  
  
At first, it appeared that Bruce was simply deflecting Mike's onslaught, perhaps hoping that he would tire himself out and come to his senses. Bruce seemed to be holding back, and not hitting that hard. But then Mike started talking. He started by calling Bruce a name reserved for female genitalia, which Bruce answered with a roundhouse to the kidneys and a name reserved for female dogs. Lois giggled.  
  
Mike put his hands on his knees, winded from the blow, and uttered a long, descriptive line of cuss words. Then he paused and looked up at Bruce.   
"So what's the matter, Brucie? You can't satisfy your girlfriend over there? Come on over to Mike's room, sweetie, I'll put a smile on that face-"  
  
Mike's taunt was cut short when Bruce tackled him. Lois winced as Bruce drove him into the wall, and held him there with one forearm. Was it wrong to be slightly turned on by this show of force? She hid her guilty grin...  
  
"Don't" punch "ever" punch "talk to" backhand slap "my girlfriend" punch "without" punch "the utmost respect!" uppercut Lois cringed. Did Bruce need to wail on him so hard? Should she intervene? Maybe it would be a - ooooh, Bruce that was a _low _blow.  
  
"Mr Wayne!" A shocked voice shouted above Mike's moaning. Bruce started guiltily and Lois made herself scarce. A nurse ran up, stooping beside Mike and giving Bruce a shocked look. "Mr Wayne! What were you-"  
  
"Nurse Chapel." A calm male said, approaching. He was younger than Bruce, though still a fair age. He turned to Bruce and smiled slightly. "Mr Wayne, I am Alexander Nicholson. I own Heritage Pines, would you accompany me please?"  
  
Lois watched as Bruce was led away.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
"Brawling in the corridors, intimidating my staff . . . I'm sorry Mr. Wayne. This is clearly not a good match, you and our community at the Heritage Pines. It saddens me to tell you that we simply cannot be your place of residence anymore." Nicholson didn't look sorry at all. Bruce's shoulders sagged slightly in defeat, but a strange sense of lightness entered him.  
  
"Yes, I would agree." He said calmly. "Would you require re-imbursement for any damages?" He asked, he glanced intimidatingly at Nicholson and the manager ummed and erred a little.  
"That won't be necessary Mr Wayne. All in good faith, providing, of course, you do not . . ."  
  
"Tell." Bruce said shortly. He stood. "Rest assured Mr Nicholson, occasionally there will be private investigations into your staff - just to make sure everything's 'as it should be'. If it isn't, you shall be hearing from me." Bruce stood and showed himself out the door.  
  
He got to his rooms to find Lois curled on the sofa, stroking Ace's ears. Tinsel lay by her feet,panting and muddy.  
"Bruce." She exclaimed, standing up. "Are you okay, what did they say?"  
"That I'm to leave." Bruce said curtly. His experiment in the normal world has ended in failure. He glanced at the stuff and sighed deeply. "I'll send someone for this later. I want to go home now."  
  
"You're leaving?" Lois asked timidly. Bruce nodded, then his eyes smiled.  
"The Jaguar probably has enough room for you and Tinsel, too." He suggested. "Should you care to escort me home." At this Ace growled a little, grumping when Bruce glared at him.  
  
Lois' face brightened. "I think I'd like that," she said. "Though - do you really want Homicide Lane in your house?"  
  
"I can't think of anything I'd like more."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
"So what now?"  
"Go back to the house and evict the Junior League."  
"Junior League - ugh. They're such a bunch of goody-goody, Ivy-educated coeds that married wealthy men. How can you stand them?"  
"Don't throw stones, Lois. You have a diploma from Brown. And if you stuck with me instead of marrying Kent, you'd be one of THEM." Lois glared as Bruce grinned victoriously.  
"Shut up and drive, Wayne."  
  



End file.
